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The promise in that—sweet Lord.
His fingers rubbed me again, and I knew I’d never felt so empty in my life.
I couldn’t have his dick, but his fingers were all mine.
Because I liked the precision of his command, I obeyed.
I wasn’t the perfect size two I’d been back when I was with him, but I was proud of my body. I had curves and I wasn’t ashamed of them. My tits were bigger, so were my hips, but I had a rocking ass and my legs were nice and toned, my arms too from all the physical work I did.
It was bright out, maybe a little too bright for comfort’s sake, but this was Declan. I knew he’d see the stretch marks, the pooch from carrying his son, I knew he’d see the scar from a mugging that had gone wrong, as well as the myriad new flaws because a connoisseur of art would see all those little details.
And I knew he’d love them.
I knew it. Just like I knew my son and he were like identical twins.
Unable to help myself, because I wanted to know the details and I really wanted to come, even though it was insane, I rolled off the stupid bed that was below the ground, goddamnbelowit because it was burrowed into the floor.
I swear, the guy had the best taste in art, but his decorating skills sucked. Grumbling inwardly at the bed, and the fact that somehow, the douche had been rolling in and out of it and again,somehow, getting onto his feet, I stripped. Top first, bra next. Followed by my jeans, and then, when I was sure he was looking, I stepped out of my panties.
His clenched jaw had me smirking a little, and satisfied by his reaction, I wandered over to the door and locked it.
Grateful that the bedrooms were the only part of the apartment with walls, I returned and saw he had his hand on his cock. Through his shorts.
Arching a brow at him, I tutted. “Thought you said you’d only move your hand.”
“I am.”
“It’s moving.” I watched it bob and sway, a little mesmerized by the sight because I wanted that dick in my mouth more than I could stand.
“Why would I touch my cock when I can touch you?” He arched his brow right back at me. “Get that sweet cunt over here and I’ll start behaving.”
Oh, God.
Inside, I just melted.
Those were not the words lovers shared, but just like always, his roughness hit me like a lemon meringue pie to the face. Maybe, in the future, I’d prefer a cream pie to the face… but that wasn’t for today.
Before, I’d have pretty much danced over there. Maybe have made Usain Bolt’s record look like he was a slowpoke. Instead, I did something nuts. I wandered over to the paintings and I looked at them.
There was something glorious about being naked in front of them.
Yes, crazy.
But right, somehow.
“Did you know Richard DeLorenzo used to work on his counterfeits in the nude?”
A smile bobbed on my lips at his words. “Really?”
“Really. Said it made him feel closer to the work. I’m just sitting over here wondering how a decade-long obsession with these paintings is paling in comparison to the sight of your ass.” A growl escaped him, and the sound had me twisting around to look at him. When I did, when I saw he was sitting up on one elbow, I did something even crazier.
I took a step back from the wall safe, pressed my hands to the edge where the slots would slide in and out once the mechanized shelves retracted, and bent over. His groan—totally worth it.
Spreading my legs some, I breathed in the scent of oil and paint and years’ worth of this masterpiece existing.
Knowing what it was, where it had come from, that Declan had it, I knew I was sopping wet.
I also knew I was weird, but I was happy with my weirdness.
